Summer of Like
by Pretty.Odd
Summary: In all of its melodious glory, this summer was different." A tale of a wonderfully sunny summer and the get-together of two certain boys. CosmoxTimmy slash more than one part, though can also be read as a one shot


Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm Alyssa and this is my first FOP story, just looked into the fandom a while ago and decided that it's short on slash (so why not add?) I am not a Wanda hater, I love her character and tried not to make her the bad guy in this. This is going to be a high school AU, pairing CosmoxTimmy don't like don't read. I have forewarned all so without further distractions I'll continue onward…

Disclaimer: Not owned by me at all. (Though I can wish right?)

Summer of Like

The summer they broke up was surprisingly sunny.

The usual hazy heat associated with the season is ever present and beating down relentlessly. While he knows the sun is making a slow escape, slinking slowly beneath the blanket of the horizon, it still lights up his path. Out of the corner of his azure eyes he notices the stony moon making itself known across the sky from its brighter counterpart. It smiles knowingly as the teenager continues his journey.

Timmy sighs. Those damn dark wash jeans aren't fitting in with the wet humidity that clings to him almost as tight as his pants. But Cosmo likes them.

Somehow that makes up for his obvious discomfort.

Wanda probably left the party already, he knew what she went there to do and the worry she felt. She told him a day previous under the old cork tree. Timmy knew he was probably frowning disapprovingly at her choice. He had to put up some sort of convincing façade because he _knew_ those two belonged together. Even if it didn't sit well in his stomach and made his chest contract uncomfortably.

He opened his mouth to protest, to say anything that could save what was probably already lost in the heat and wind and rain and thunder and surprising lack of heartbreak. He already had a few options for an august speech with sweeping hands and hardened eyes but the red haired adolescent was not deterred from her goal and what she knew was right.

Timmy didn't ever admit it out loud but he saw what Wanda was obviously concerned about. The lack of fervor on both of their parts, the steady decrease of love struck glances and the rapid increase of Cosmo spending his Friday nights alone.

The blue eyed boy mentally commended his best friend each day for sticking it all out, not only through a patently failing relationship but also through the in depth questions _of_ the patently failing relationship.

The gym locker room is always abuzz with jeers of maturing male voices; usually the talks were about the girls changing just behind the wall separating the two rooms. The poor green-eyed boy was constantly bombarded with various inquiries regarding his girlfriend.

Cosmo was never the center of attention when it came to the rest of their graduating class. Throughout middle school he suffered through never ending gay jokes and was the closet case yet to escape. It was a shock that he not only gained a girlfriend, but the very girl everyone lusted after. So it was expected that he be meek at best around the hoarding hounds of horny boys most likely getting off to Wanda's picture at night.

But Cosmo never knew that.

He stuttered. He stumbled. He lied.

Somehow it was spread that he got to about third base with her. Wanda heard the claim, she never denied nor confirmed it publicly but she did yell at Cosmo later.

The fights were always the bane of the relationship that turned into unwanted commitment. Usually it was a slow build up, Cosmo would be somehow annoying Wanda to no end with his usual quirks. Be it eating pudding with no spoon or talking to his nickel again, Wanda always got tired of it. So she nagged.

"Cosmo, do your chemistry homework."

"Cosmo, don't forget our date on Friday."

"Cosmo, STOP TALKING TO THAT GODDAMNED NICKEL."

And she always broke the Thursday before their get together. She would heave a sigh strong enough to take down a middle class house. And blow all that hot air back at Cosmo. It was never her alone and it was never him alone that ignited the gas fire, it was the awkward interaction between the two that never left a feather unruffled.

Wanda would be stentorian thunder booming over Cosmo, the quietly glaring lightning lashing out in random outbursts and lighting up the whole argument. It always worsened when Wanda went too far.

Now to be fair they both were personality extremities, when broken down Wanda was strong, loud, courageous and stubborn. Cosmo was much the same in the stubborn aspect but he was always docile and mild company among others. He never dealt well in huge groups while Wanda strived and spread her vocal wings amidst the flocks of teens.

Therefore Wanda would always use Cosmo's fear of physical intimacy and closeness as a sucker punch. Or a shield. It was always hard to tell.

She would offhandedly remark about Juan touching her more than he does. Cosmo would pause and turn to guardedly glare at her distant expression.

She would then, loudly ask him,

Why?

Why can't he touch her the way she _longs_ to be touched by a man? He would open his mouth. He was fully prepared for spewing an assault regarding how she can't live up to her sun-of-a-sister, shadowing her throughout her whole life but Wanda wouldn't stop.

Why does he always blush and stutter when she guides his hand where she wants it?

Why is she always disappointed when he isn't as _needy_ as she is?

AND WHY THE HELL DOES TIMMY SEEM TO COME FIRST ALL THE FUCKING TIME IN THE RELATIONSHIP? IF SHE WANTED ANOTHER BOYFRIEND SHE WOULD GET ONE.

And Cosmo would shrink back while standing tall. A difficult feat, his stance radiated confidence and challenge but his eyes knew. Something was dug up that should have stayed buried.

Brushing it to the side he would stalk forward.

Why aren't you as pretty as your sister?

A sneer, sharp canines bared at the redhead.

Why do you never seem to like being at home?

At this rhetorical question Wanda would cringe visibly, it was a school wide fact that her home life was not even close to perfect.

Why does she seem to be the better…

And she would cut him off in a fit of rage. Lashing out jumbled sentence fragments that didn't seem to have any relevant point, if only to scare him. That's when she would walk away and he would be left in the dust.

Cosmo would watch her retreating back with a heavy face. His expression would be guarded to the point of almost cracking. Then all of a sudden, he would pick himself up. Raise his head to the sky then cast his eyes over the horizon. Timmy always saw him look there after a fight. Like a Godsend would appear and pull him up into the heavens. Then he too, would walk away.

While Timmy was left there in the background wondering when Wanda seemed to get both pistols in the gunfight and Cosmo got stuck with the knife.

The bark was always worse than the bite though. They somehow manage to make up by Saturday morning and go out for dinner Saturday night.

Timmy always not to notice the suspicion that lingers in Wanda's eyes just like he pretends whatever he sees in Cosmo is strictly platonic.

When school days dwindled, party numbers increased. That meant the number of invitations delivered to Timmy and Cosmo were rare. About one for every ten or so parties hosted. Wanda would often take pity on the two, dragging them far away from Video Game Friday to go to some tool or slut's drinking party.

The house was always overly large, holding an obscene amount of people and boos. The only reason, Timmy mused, that they never got caught was the vast influence the parents of the host probably had. The sun would always be falling behind the masses, setting a perfect painted backdrop that seemed to lessen the air of it's usual haze. People would be talking to each other like long lost friends, peacefully and amicably. It could have been the orange glow cast, messing with their minds but these people were always known for ulterior motives.

Cosmo and Timmy would spend the evening people watching in a covert location away from the drinks. They counted the number of drunkards stumbling up the stairs in twos, clinging to each other like a last hope. They counted the number of objects broken that the host had to hide before their parents came home. They counted the number of embarrassing dances that weird boil kid was forced to do for one reason or another. And they counted the number of people that talked to them that night.

That number was generally small.

So when it finally came time to leave, the party still reached out for Wanda in waves. Crowds of people would barricade the exit.

"Come on Wanda!" They would exclaim

"Cupid is going to try to set up Jorgen and Maybell again!"

Wanda would blush fondly then inch her way to the door, calling out apologies at her abrupt departure. The party would then roll their eyes in unison.

"Your little gay boyfriend his just _fine_ with Turner. Stay a while."

It was never the same person that uttered the statement. That somehow worried Wanda and never left her as she rushed out the door. Even then, the people lingering outside would take extra long to say goodbye and by the time she escaped their drunken clutches, Timmy and Cosmo would be in the car placing bets on when she would arrive.

The drive home always consisted of radio fights between the two males. Alternating between slightly feminine fingers turning the dial and a more calloused hand playfully slapping the other away and waving triumphantly.

Talks of muggy summer memories to more recent escapades whirled in the front of the car. Content, lazy smiles shone through the rear view mirror and fogged up the glass with happy condensation.

Wanda would sit in the back seat and wonder what she was missing.

In all of its melodious glory, this summer was different.

In the past Timmy could never call any particular time or place his home. His house could never be a home, with his parents fluttering in and out the doors constantly; he was always too alone there to feel warm. The school year could never be home, his single friend was his only company there and even then it was still piles of work he won't need in the future. Misty, previous summers were just there to pass the time, a respite before the next year starts and time moves again.

Since Cosmo started coming to him for solace because Wanda started to go to Juan for solace because they _both_ couldn't be the same happy whole, Timmy felt needed.

The green-eyed teen was always the brunet's best childhood friend. They shared growing up together and both ended up with the short end of the stick. Cosmo had a dysfunctional relationship while Timmy had a sexual crisis.

But not even Cosmo knew the full extent of that one.

All in all though they banded together, protected each other with wide grins and dumb decisions. Until the day she came along three summers ago, freshman year to be precise.

She came before Timmy's drastic teeth change and after Cosmo's daring and stupid hair dye mistake. It was a summer of coy smiles and late nights between the two love interests. Timmy always tried his best not to get sick on his shoes when he was in the same room as the both of them.

Wanda was a whirlwind that plucked Cosmo off the ground and never quite allowed him to get that steady footing back. Around her he always seemed to be floating on air, hand in hand they could face the world.

Their problem was they could never face each other.

And Timmy knew that would be their downfall, it wasn't a lack of communication it was a misinterpretation of each other, a lack of patience that drove them both up a wall. It was their inability to give the other the benefit of the doubt and their extreme displeasure of giving up more than an inch of ground.

So when Cosmo's western wonder clashed with the exotic east of Wanda, they did the only _rational_ thing; avoid the other as if their last breath depended on it.

It always took them longer and longer to get back together after those silent fights. Even when they did their movements were all muscle memory. Unnatural yet predictable.

Timmy never said anything; it was his job as a best friend to let Cosmo deal with his own problems and troubles. That never stopped him from prying.

Cosmo slowly grew annoyed with Timmy's constant interest in his life and tried to distance himself. It was a mush of mixed signals that they both acted on and somehow ended up less than friends.

Timmy decided to swallow his pride. About a week after "The Rift," he walked himself over to Cosmo's only to be greeted by his overbearing mother. She _begged_ him to calm her son down.

"Really Timothy, he's been at it for the whole week, that little red-headed girl couldn't even get him out and he's scaring away all my dates!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Timmy climbed the stairs two at a time. The muffled sobs of his best friend were unmistakable, without a hasty second thought he burst through the door into his best friends bedroom.

He decided long ago that Cosmo's room, with him in it made him feel safer than anywhere else.

The bleary eyed teen raised his head slightly, colliding his line of vision with Timmy. Before the brunet's heart broke at the sight, Cosmo ran to him and latched on, mumbling hysteric apologies and near impossible promises but Timmy knew Cosmo well enough that this was a sign everything was okay.

Timmy learned to adjust to the new person within his circle (or previous line segment now triangle of friends, he couldn't deny it felt good to pluralize it.)

She was at first a fickle presence, showing up in random intervals at Cosmo's side like a smiling, talking shadow. She would lean her head on his shoulder and mumble soft, pretty words into his chest when they gathered for weekly movie night. Timmy's couch was made for two. He opted to sit on the floor those times.

Wanda ate lunch with them and held Cosmo's hand. Wanda watched movies with them and held Cosmo's hand. Wanda took them to parties and held Cosmo's hand.

So maybe the rest Timmy could handle, but he always wanted to know what it was like to grip that hand and never let go.

The lack of light is evident; the path that his shoes are scuffing is disappearing into the woods.

Leave it to Gary to throw a woods party.

Timmy can hear the obvious screaming, indicating the party hidden within the shade of the trees. The music seems to reverberate off of every solid surface and even though the sound is sonorous and rich Timmy still feels some sort of emptiness settling lithely between his fingertips and under his skin.

Pulling his hat tighter to his head, the teenager steps forward to be embraced by the remaining slivers of light shining through twisted branches and greengreengreen leaves.

Timmy notices he's already on the outskirts of the party. A.J and Chester are chugging what's left of a cheap keg, probably filled with equally cheap beer. The moonlight bathes them harshly, casting drunken shadows across the ground and tree bark. The laughter sounds out of key like an acoustic guitar yet to be tuned. High pitched and shrill, Timmy cringes.

As much as those two try to fit in they never really could. They were basically at the beck and call of people like Gary, Tad and Chad. A pair of lapdogs with no treats or home, no sense of awareness or individuality. Cloning went wrong.

It unnerved the sky-eyed brunet to no end because without Cosmo he probably would be just like them. Buying lunch for the popular kids and still be denied a spot at their table. Holding their books only to have them dropped on his feet minutes later.

The hierarchy of high school disgusted Timmy, he never understood why people should be shunned and separated because of one person's personal biases and the people they associate with. He and Cosmo did a commendable job fading into the background and basically making themselves invisible to everyone else, being immune to the unspoken rules of adolescence.

Though their center of balance shifted when all of a sudden they were cast in the spotlight, the school wide underdog story. In truth things were still much the same. They were still looked down on at parties, still on the receiving end of many insults, be it to their faces or behind their backs. Wanda was there in a sense, sticking some things out beside them but she was never _with_ them.

The green eyed teen acted as if none of it existed and smiled wide in the face of it all.

Timmy scoffed. He was not dumb enough to be fooled.

He knew the grin that never quite reached his eyes and the way his behavior tamed down over the years. Cosmo wanted to be cool. He wanted to make himself feel like he _deserved _Wanda in all of her autumn bright glory.

Timmy continues onward, stepping past the vomit littering the forest floor and casting a sad glance at the two doomed boys. High school can coddle them for a while but the real world will swallow them whole. Say goodbye to jeans and tee shirts and hello to suits and ties. They'll be just as constricting as the taut smile they'll learn to wear every day.

He can literally feel the air becoming heavier as his feet step forward.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Suddenly he stops. He never really pondered or thought of what would actually _happen_ when he would confront Cosmo. Would he be happy Timmy is there? Would he yell at him and rip his tiny little heart to pieces? Would he blame everything on Timmy?

His head hurts from all of the horrible possibilities. His feet are still moving and his mind is still reeling at alarming speeds. Timmy barley registers the haughty jeers flying through branches like nimble vultures, red eyes set and claws sharpened.

The ground is more solid as he steps this time, he passed the marshy section a few minutes back and seemed to reach the center of the large party.

And at the center was the very person he was searching for.

Yes, Cosmo is there. All wide eyes and pale skin glowing in the scant amount of light fixed on him. His hands are unsteady against his side, constantly tap-tapping on his hip to keep them busy. His face is soft and feminine, not possessing the same hard, edgy features most males their age have. He blinks abruptly, black eyelashes fluttering like moths across his milky cheek and turns his head.

This is when Timmy gets a better glance at his best friend. Under the dark denim sky, the stray tears shine like sad stars contrasting distinctly underneath his sharp, aware eyes. The brunet immediately knows this wasn't Wanda's doing. She wouldn't have left him obviously broken like this and out in the open for prying eyes and stealthy lips. She would have taken him with her and calmed him down. As much as their relationship lacked romance, he knows it still held some sort of strong connection.

Timmy then takes in the rest of the partygoers gathered in the clearing. All of them obviously pointing at the dejected Cosmo, who is still only half standing steady wavering slightly at the immense numbers of people focused solely on him.

He probably feels like an awkward, first time circus performer. Still new to the experience of being exposed to so many. Abandoned drinks litter the dusty ground that surrounds him. Piling up like ugly, forsaken snow left out in the harsh summer heat.

The fire that creped up Timmy's spine was enough to burn New York and beyond. He silently swears, finding it easier to blame Cosmo's tears and mortification on himself. If he had arrived earlier, if he had stopped the collapse of Wanda and saved Cosmo from the debris, if he had done _something right_ in his entire useless time waste of air, he would have done anything for Cosmo.

Rushing to the center of the ring, Timmy possessively winds his arm around the slimmest part of the forest-eyed boys agile waist, putting the slightest pressure on the small of his back to keep his footing steady.

Somehow, the lazy noise of the intoxicated party halts. Green-faced teens upturn their heavy heads and watch the pursuit of the two boys. Timmy's feet feel like lead, increasing in weight with each step he takes. Cosmo is a dead mass, letting the brunet drag him carefully like a well-loved toy across the width of the makeshift dance floor.

Timmy should find the irony in the situation, he always seems to mull over the oddest moments and their interconnections. The anticlimax of finding Cosmo flies right over Timmy's head this time. He should have smirked because this time he gets to be the hero; he should have giggled because he worried the last half hour over something he has seen before. In the back of Timmy's mind, he figures it'll only be a matter of minutes before Cosmo returns back to his witty yet still dimwitted ways.

Though his common sense disagrees strongly.

Once he completes the precarious trek to a secluded section of branches and moonlight, he hears Cosmo flop onto the ground. Most likely throwing his arms over his head, open to whatever more the world could possibly throw at him.

The sense of Déjà vu doesn't creep up or subtly make itself known to Timmy. He takes it like a soccer ball to the face, rough and abrupt.

The swift, brisk rustling of summer leaves, smiling night-light embracing them and the infinite number of people running fresh in his mind is strikingly similar to other parties.

Minus a happy Cosmo.

Timmy blindly takes his hand, relishing in the feel of the delicate fingers twinned with his own. He can hear the inquiry lingering on Cosmo's tongue, dying before it reaches the air.

"How are you?"

It's a really dumb question and Timmy kind of regrets asking it as soon as it leaves his lips, but at the sight of Cosmo's mouth upturning slightly he wills the feeling down.

"Peachy."

Timmy hears the shadow of a smirk almost making itself known in the deadpan statement.

More irony, Timmy thinks.

"So…how did it all," Timmy pauses briefly, considering an appropriate way to phrase his question. When he doesn't find one he just flails his hands a little, knowing Cosmo understands.

Despite the previous sarcasm, Cosmo suddenly sobers and stiffens. It isn't significant but it is still present.

"Well how would any break up go?" Cosmo mumbles bitterly. Timmy doesn't like this tone, whenever Cosmo speaks there should be sunshine and smiles.

"She pulls me aside, away from everyone else. Timmy, I knew it was coming but I really didn't want it to actually happen." His earnest voice surprises Timmy, this is one of the rare times that Cosmo lets down his sarcasm and humor and adorable obliviousness to explain how he actually feels.

"So she tells me, 'COSMO!'" Timmy stifles an unexpected giggle because Cosmo's impression of Wanda is just spot on and the only shine of _something_ bright underneath the umbrella trees.

"Her face got all red when I pretended not to hear her, 'COSMO! Look, this really isn't working out…'" Cosmo trails off, rubbing his shoulder blade self consciously, this is the specific movement alerting Timmy that Wanda was probably right. The petite boy never questions himself or becomes suddenly sheepish for no apparent reason.

Wanda was right to break up with him and Cosmo's blatant hatred for anything different caused him to repress his similar feelings.

"She ended it all."

Bitterness disappears and a melancholy seeps in. It's hard to tell how much of the break up is actually affecting Cosmo and how much of it is just fatigue and displeasure to the abrupt change.

Timmy just hums low in his throat and leans in closer to the smaller boy. Their hands still a mess of pressed palms and knotted fingers, like the ropes they never could tie when they were in boy scouts together.

They sit in a comfortable silence, sitting closer than other males their age, allowing their breath to mingle in some sort of muggy air mass of CosmoTimmy.

Something tells Timmy he should fill the void, do something to make Cosmo feel less alone and different and _sad_.

The swaying sounds of the party are still floating around like wayward birds; music reverberates off of the sleepy cork trees that feel like home. Sitting there with Cosmo feels right to Timmy, as cliché as it seems. It makes him appear selfish but now that Cosmo doesn't have any other name attached to his own, it feels like the air is less foggy and the night is as sunny as the day.

The green-eyed boy lets out a yawn, laying his head gently on Timmy's bony shoulder. Cosmo's breath comes out in short puffs of humid air causing the brunet to shiver. He trained himself in these situations before.

Breathe in. Out. In. Out.

Because if he messes up, if he moves his hand or lets his eyes linger for too long, he could be found out.

"Timmy?"

Cosmo's voice sounds so small against the night-music surrounding them. Timmy tilts his head, locking blue to green.

"Cosmo?"

His tone is supposed to be joking; light in contrast to the heavy tone Cosmo's seems to have picked up.

The boy next to him squirms, positioning himself half in Timmy's lap and half on the dew covered grass. Their arms brush in the flurry of green hair and sweaty skin, sending a sudden jolt marching up brunet's spine and leaving a tingly sensation to the tips of his toes.

Cosmo obviously looks unsure, under Timmy's questioning gaze he shifts almost as if he's uncomfortable in his own skin; desperately wanting to shed it and disappear.

"Look can I just…"

He twists precariously, knees on either side of Timmy's denim clad thighs. He's leaning suggestively and Timmy has to take a few rushed breaths to prepare himself for the onslaught of Cosmo's scent hitting him full force.

Timmy stiffens as Cosmo adjusts to the makeshift seat, leaning and turning and moving and friction friction friction.

He can only raise his eyebrow slightly as Cosmo's slender fingers untangle themselves from his clammy hand to latch onto the barely there curve of his hip.

"Do you…do you really think me and Wanda were _right_ for each other?"

Timmy can tell the question was weighing heavily on his tongue, the way he twists his hair between his middle finger and forefinger with avoiding eyes and bated breath.

The brunet can feel his chest contract and tighten. He can feel the exact spot Cosmo's ass is resting on his legs, the way his lower stomach is on fire just from the muted touch of gentle hands, the minute amount of wind that causes Cosmo to shiver and lean closer. The fabric of their shirts slide together, wanting to somehow join and form a mesh of pink and green.

And in the midst of all of this Timmy's hands are lost. Resting uselessly at his sides like disciplined soldiers respecting direct orders, when Timmy really only wants to card them through Cosmo's hair and maybe feel his skin tremble underneath his fingers.

He almost forgets Cosmo even said anything until he makes an impatient hum next to Timmy's ear.

"I…"

He starts off lamely, probably sounding as awkward as he feels, he can only do so much to hold himself back and talking just complicates that further.

"Timmy, you can tell me the truth."

Cosmo's voice is too steady; too calm for the ambiguous situation they found themselves in. It sounds almost taunting and if Timmy weren't so hopelessly lost he would have easily noticed.

"No."

His eyes are closed tightly, face a contorted mess because Cosmo shifts again and his pants suddenly feel more constricting than ever.

"You and Wanda were never right for each other."

The confession hangs in the air like the stale smell of tree sap and heated moisture. Cosmo stops his fidgeting, his hands now resting high on Timmy's thighs and his legs still straddling Timmy's lap.

"You two were just…too different."

Timmy is honestly surprised he can keep his voice that steady.

"You always fought and…no offence but Juan was always all over her."

Timmy shrinks in a little, fully expecting Cosmo to lash out and defend Wanda's honor or something but to his dismay he begins to chuckle softly.

"Timmy, I _knew_ _all_ of this."

The brunet cocks his head to the side, gazing questioningly over at his giggling companion. Cosmo just continues laughing until the echo joins in and the empty spaces and stark brown trees are laughing as well.

"We _both_ knew all of this, sunshine."

Of all the stupid times to blush, Timmy picks this moment. Because that dumb nickname that Timmy though was meant to be teasing, was oddly endearing.

"We _both_ agreed to end it multiple times but…it happening now just shocked me is all."

It was like the teen never even got hurt, never even cried over the loss of this girl because well, he really didn't cry over the loss of _her_. Just the loss of something familiar and one of the closest things to home he could have.

"So… she didn't _tell _you she was ending it tonight?"

Cosmo doesn't stop his assault of laughter, if anything it gets stronger and louder, drowning out crickets and a handful of tension. If Timmy weren't still restrained by Cosmo's thighs and held down by the soft ringing of his mirth, he would have thought his pale friend was slowly driving himself mad.

"Didn't she already do that?" Cosmo says when he finally gets his breath back from the giggles and smiles that stole it.

Timmy would bring his hand to his chin to ponder the question if his arms weren't spun around Cosmo's slim waist like a ballet dancer. He can really only watch his face, searching for signs of some ulterior motive or strings to manipulate Timmy's words.

"I…I guess so." Timmy replies lamely.

Cosmo chuckles again, but this time it's quieter. Timmy can feel the vibrations of Cosmo's chest dictating his heart rate and causing his hands to sweat. Currently they're splayed out like starfish on the other boy's side, subconsciously massaging the chalk-white skin being leisurely revealed due to his tee shirt riding up.

Cosmo shivers like waving cork trees swaying with the breeze behind them, curling into Timmy further and burying his face into the crook of the brunet's neck.

"I never want to leave here."

The green-eyed boy's words are slightly muffled and soaking into the cotton fabric of Timmy's shirt. Keeping it a secret from the peeping birds and sleeping grass.

The brunet hums in agreement, placing a chaste kiss on the pale column of Cosmo's neck. It is clean and simple, a tacit agreement. There's a pregnant pause, a moment in which all the air is taken from their little bubble and held back, not to be returned until _something_ happens.

"Do you want to know why Wanda always seemed mad at me?"

Cosmo's voice is again swallowed and sinks into Timmy's skin, marching up his arms in an army of Goosebumps.

Timmy nods, knowing Cosmo can feel the upward movement of his head resting overtop his own. Cosmo lets out a breathy laugh, moving his hands leisurely up and down Timmy's upper thighs.

"She was always jealous of you."

Timmy doesn't feel his jaw drop, he doesn't feel a shock to his system and he honestly doesn't blush, seriously.

"Of me? Wha-"

Timmy can't seem to articulate words to match his kaleidoscope of changing emotions. He had an odd sense before that Wanda held some sort of resentment toward him; he almost found it humorous how she would be more possessive of Cosmo whenever he was around. And if Timmy could move his arms, he would have slapped himself in the face. Because really, it was all right there.

Cosmo pulls his head back from the now burning junction of Timmy's neck and collar bone, watching intently his hands slowly inch closer to the bulging section of Timmy's jeans.

"She told me that it seemed like I was dating you instead of her."

Cosmo's voice echoes and makes the whole situation feel too real to Timmy. His neck is hypersensitive to the little breaths Cosmo puffs out as his chest rises and falls. He's trying not to breathe too heavily as Cosmo's fingers start to play with the zipper of his pants, then change location to his lower stomach.

His mind is reeling because _holy shit_. This is happening. Cosmo is sprawled in his lap and _wanting all of this too_.

Timmy feels daring. He slides his hands lower, cupping them underneath Cosmo's ass and shrugs him forward causing their chests to collide suddenly and their heartbeats to become erratic.

Someone gasps, it's hard to tell whom because it's lost in a flurry of lips and teeth and spit. Cosmo's slender fingers slide sweetly through dark brown tresses, bypassing the pink cap that fell to the ground in the mess of limbs. It's oddly like wrestling, switching positions from top to bottom and all over again. Timmy feels his wrists being pinned above his head leaving his body exposed to the heat and wind and Cosmocosmocosmo. Cosmo pulls away, their mouths making an obscene pop as they break apart.

Timmy cranes his neck to stare up at Cosmo from beneath heavy lids. Cosmo's eyes vaguely remind Timmy of marbles, fully blown and solid, staring hungrily down at him.

"How long?"

Timmy's eyes are scrunched tightly, his mouth is slightly parted and kiss swollen.

"You had me at 'hello.'"

Cosmo scrunches his nose distastefully.

"You had so many options with that."

He sounds playfully disappointed yet still wanting by the lingering spark in his eye. Timmy shrugs as much as he can while being held down.

"That one just spoke to me."

Cosmo smirks.

"And I'm done talking."

He leans down again, nudging Timmy's nose to the side and sinfully sliding his hands down the paler portion of Timmy's arm. There's a choked back moan that infiltrates the hazy air only to be swallowed by another mouth. Their legs tangle together like yarn and their faces are matching scarlet. Timmy maneuvers so he is dominant, carefully placing himself on top of Cosmo with an impish grin.

Cosmo lazily raises an eyebrow, a perfect arch of dark brown contrasting greatly with the green mess of his hair.

"Are you trying to seduce me Mister Turner?"

Timmy growls slightly, bending down to bite at Cosmo's neck simply because he has full privileges to do that now. Cosmo almost chokes on his tongue.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Timmy simultaneously wants to laugh at the fact that he managed to make the king of sarcasm a blushing, trembling mess and just kiss him senseless for the rest of the night.

The latter wins out because for the better part of the early morning they stay knotted together, sharing kisses like secrets and barter dilated glances underneath fading night-light.

By the time Timmy's mouth is cottony and kiss-dry it's sunrise. He supposes that's about right since he arrived at the party decently late and cornered Cosmo after that. The night was sleepless and worth it.

The trees are yawning with them, moving stiffly as they wake up with the chirping birds. The grass is damp everywhere but where they're sprawled out, making Timmy's skin feel warmer than ever when the cool water melts on contact.

Cosmo runs his tongue over his chapped lips and sits up. His eyes are sleepy from staying awake and happy while everywhere around his mouth is a mess of saliva. Timmy glances down to the angry red marks left on the slighter boy's neck and chuckles.

"Clean yourself up. That is no way for you to look before I introduce you to my mother."

Cosmo straightens his collar to cover the majority of the hickies and glares half-heartedly at Timmy.

"Your mother would disown you if she knew how dirty you really are."

He completes his statement by poking out his tongue. Timmy just shakes his head and helps Cosmo re-button his shirt, though he brushes his hands over Cosmo's chest more than actually fastening.

"My mother would love me even if she did know." Timmy says after Cosmo's shirt is finally adjusted.

"I bet your mother would love me more." Cosmo wiggles his eyebrows suggestively only to be swatted in the back of the head for his lewd humor.

"We should get going before _your_ mom sends out a search party." Timmy remarks honestly. Cosmo can't argue with that, he sheepishly smiles because he knows his mom really would do something that crazy.

"I'll just tell her I slept at your house and my phone wasn't charged…or something. She was probably on a date anyway." Cosmo cringes at the thought of his mom actually going _out_.

Timmy nods absently, taking Cosmo's elegant hand for his own and walking out of the secluded clearing into the aftermath and debris of the hurricane-of-a-party.


End file.
